


Little Kisses

by teatearsandbbc



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 04:03:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teatearsandbbc/pseuds/teatearsandbbc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John keeps kissing Sherlock at random times and the detective doesn't know how to react.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Kisses

     At first, the kisses surprised Sherlock.  John would walk by in the morning while Sherlock was at his microscope and drop a kiss on the back of his head.  Or the detective would be ranting about something or other, usually the stupidity of the human race or the newest in his study of tobacco ash and John would smile fondly, reach up, and kiss him on the cheek.  Sherlock never knew how to respond to that.  Did he kiss John back?  Did he smile?  Did he just pretend it never happened?  He decided some research was in order.  He thought of going to Lestrade, but concluded he would only laugh.  Mycroft, of course, was entirely out of the question and Mrs. Hudson talked too much.  In the end, he settled on Molly.  He sought her out one afternoon at St. Barts and, trying not to startle her, said hello.

            “Oh!  Sherlock!  It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” she said, seeming startled.

            “Yes, I suppose so,” he replied.  “I have an inquiry in which I need your assistance.”

            “Me?  What could you need me for?” she asked, frowning.

            “You have been in a string of relationships, have you not?” he asked.  She immediately started blushing to her roots and stammering.

            “Well, er, I mean, I suppose so.  But I hardly think Jim counts!  We only went out a few times.  And Richard was just a fling-”

            “Molly, I hardly care about the sort of men with whom you choose to associate.  My inquiry is after the nature of the physical relationship.”

            Molly turned, if possible, redder and only stood there opening and closing her mouth.  Sherlock decided to get to the point before the poor girl died of a heart attack.

            “Did any of them ever kiss you at random times?  While you were working and such?”

            “Well, yes, I suppose so,” she replied thoughtfully.  “Why?”

            “John has taken to doing that lately and I have deleted the societal expectation of the correct response.  I do not wish to offend him inadvertently.”

            “Just do what seems natural…” she began, but seeing Sherlock’s face, Molly quickly changed tactics.  “Look, just, erm, squeeze his hand or when you’re feeling affectionate towards him, give him a little kiss.  It’s just a way of letting him you know you love him without having to say anything.”

            Sherlock considered this for a moment, then nodded.

            “I believe that is a good enough basis to begin experimentation.  Thank you, Molly,” he said, turning to leave.

            “Ah, Sherlock,” she called.  “I might not use the word ‘experimentation’ when you mention it to him.”  She received a wave over his shoulder as he swept out of the room.  “Okay,” she said to the empty room.

            Back at the flat, Sherlock took to watching John as he puttered about the apartment, cataloguing each little movement and flick of muscle that gave away his emotions.  John seemed to notice his scrutiny and threw him a couple of questioning looks, but he must have written it off as another one of Sherlock’s strange quirks as he didn’t ask.  John left to go fetch milk and Sherlock went to work on one of his other experiments while this one was on hold.  When the doctor returned, he dropped a kiss on the back of Sherlock’s head as he went by.  Drawing from his new information, he reached out to take John’s hand and squeeze it.  Unfortunately, the hand he picked was the hand carrying the groceries. 

     What resulted was a tangle of hands and bags and the milk carton hit the floor, bursting and spilling everywhere.  Sherlock berated himself angrily for his mistake and rushed to get a towel, refusing to make eye contact with John and muttering “Sorry,” to John and “Stupid,” under his breath.  When the milk was cleaned up, he rushed out of the flat in a whirl of scarf and coat, ignoring John’s “Sherlock, wait!  What’s going on?”

Molly Hooper received a call that afternoon from Doctor Watson.

“Hello?”

“Molly, it’s John.  How are you?”

“Oh hello, John.  Yes, I’m well, and you?”

“Doing fine.  Actually, I’m a bit baffled at the moment.  Have you got any idea what’s going on with Sherlock?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, I came back from the shop today with some groceries and he knocked the milk out of my hand and then went bonkers cleaning it up, wouldn’t even look at me.  He practically ran away.”

“Oh.”

“What?” John asked sharply.

“John, did you kiss him just before this happened?”

“Well…yes, I suppose I did.  What does that have to do with it?” he asked, bewildered.

“He came to me this morning asking about how he should react when you do that, give him little kisses.  He didn’t want to do the wrong thing and upset you.  I told him he could squeeze your hand or something.  He was probably trying to do that.”

“Oh.  Why wouldn’t he talk to me about it?” John asked, flustered.

“Well, I suppose he didn’t want to disappoint you,” Molly replied honestly.  “He’s very worried about doing the right thing in this relationship and I’m not sure he knows exactly how to go about doing that.  You know how he is.”

“Yes, I do,” John agreed.  “Thanks, Molly.”

John couldn’t help but laugh as they hung up.  Sherlock was trying to figure out the right way to do things for him.  It was so purely Sherlock and it created a warm glow at the center of the doctor’s chest. 

John texted the detective.  “I want to talk to you love.  Please come home?”  It went unheeded, unsurprisingly.  He didn’t hear from Sherlock until that night around 9 when he finally came through the door still avoiding eye contact.  John waited until he had taken off his coat and scarf to stand and walk over to him.

“Sherlock?  Please talk to me.”

“About what?” he replied moodily.

“This afternoon?  You ran away.  I mean, I know I seem passionate about the milk, but I’m not going to kill you over spilling it.  So what’s going on?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sherlock said, still maintaining his icy exterior.  John gave a small smile, then said,

“Is it because I did this?”  He reached up and kissed Sherlock on the cheek.  He smiled as he felt the detective freeze.  “I talked to Molly.  Sherlock, why didn’t you ask me about this?” he asked, pulling away and searching those stunning eyes.

“I…I didn’t want it to be a bit not good,” he replied, using the phrase he had picked up from John correcting his social ineptitude.  “I don’t know how to be in a relationship, John.  I’ve never done this and so I don’t know what the correct social constructs are for behavior.  I have no data on how to react to these displays.”

“Sherlock, I don’t need reciprocation,” John explained.  “When I kiss you like that, it’s not because I’m expecting anything in return or needing anything from you.  When that’s the case, I’ll kiss you like this.”  He reached up, grabbed Sherlock by his collar, and pulled their mouths together.  He kissed him long and hard and deep, full of want and passion and love.  When he pulled away, he thought Sherlock looked a bit faint.  He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the detective’s ridiculous cheekbone and said,

“When I give you those little kisses, it’s just because I love you and I want you to know that.  I know you’re busy or it’s not a good time, and just saying I love you isn’t enough.  I’m not asking for anything back.”

“I think I understand,” Sherlock said, looking with a sort of startled wonder at his partner.

“Good.  Now, right now, I am asking for something back,” John said, pulling them to the couch and Sherlock smiled.  This he had learned how to do very well.

The next morning while John was making tea, he felt the press of lips against the back of his head and he couldn’t help but smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments and suggestions! I can be found on Tumblr at the same username (teatearsandbbc)


End file.
